


It Starts With a Twinge

by CryptidOwl007



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Gen, Major Character Injury, Tanaka hasn't had a character arc yet, hello naughty children it's story time, siblings to the rescue, there hasn't been a terrible injury yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:23:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CryptidOwl007/pseuds/CryptidOwl007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tanaka Ryuunosuke, without a doubt, has the 'Qualities of an Ace.' But does he have the mental fortitude to deal with an injury that may take him off the court... permanently?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Starts With a Twinge

Keeping his arms as low as possible, Ryū slipped the sweater over his head. After yanking on it till it was situated, he rolled his shoulders to loosen them up. Standing next to him in the clubroom, Hinata eyed him as he slipped his own shirt on. Reaching for his shoes, Ryū told him, “We should hurry before Daichi-san makes us run laps for being late.”

“Yes!” Hinata yelped, grabbing his own shoes and sprinting out the door.

“Oi! Wait up! You’re supposed to let your senpai go first, aren’t ya?!” Lunging after him, Ryū heard Hinata’s apologetic squeak as he waited for him at the bottom of the stairs, running in place. Reaching him, they both began sprinting towards the gym. Ryū was reminded of how fast Hinata could go, and pumped his arms harder to catch up.

***

“Well, you’re not _late_ , but now you’re both too tired to stand.” Daichi stood looking down towards them as they continued to pant, leaning on their knees. “Just stretch out,” he said, “I think you got the warm up lap in just getting here.” Chuckling, Daichi walked back to the rest of the team, who were finishing their own warm up.

Sighing with relief, they started their stretches and slowly got their breathing back to a regular tempo.

“Ahh, I hope we do mostly receive training today,” Ryū said offhand, bending over to reach his toes.

Snapping his head up from where he sat in the butterfly position, Hinata blurted out, “How come?”

Standing and leaning back to stretch his back, Ryū pulled his eyebrows into a frown. “I just want to work on receives. They’re worse than my spikes. Plus,” he said grinning, “you could use some work as well, so don’t complain.” Hinata nodded, seeming to relax as he went back to stretching.

“Oh, well if that’s the reason. . .” trailing off, Hinata finished his stretch. Ryū began rolling his shoulder and stretching his arms, paying close attention to his spiking arm. He kept on stretching his right until he heard Coach Ukai call them over, beginning practice.  

“Alright, so we made it past Shiratorizawa. But we’ll have to face even stronger opponents going forward. You all remember how many punishments you had to do during the training camp? Well now we have to face those same teams in a real match.” Looking down at a sheet of paper in his hands, Ukai announced, “It looks like the Tokyo representatives will be Nekoma and Fukurodani. To be expected. Now, both teams have strong blockers and spikers. So to increase our own strength we’ll pit our blockers against our spikers. I want spikers to hit and blockers to block. Got it? Good.”

The squeak of court shoes filled the gym as the team got into hitting lines and blocking positions. Suga started the drill by tossing to Asahi, who spiked it past Yamaguchi. Up next was Narita against Tsukishima, who blocked the spike. And so they continued till everyone had gone and Kageyama took Suga’s place. Once again they went through the whole line.

“Alright, grab water then we’ll continue with the same drill!” Coach Ukai called as he, Yachi, and Kiyoko shagged balls.

Running over to the water bottles, Ryū took a swig, then another. Putting the water down, he began rolling his shoulder and massaging the knots out of it.

“You’ve been rolling your shoulder all day Tanaka-senpai; are you all right?”

“Hm?” looking down at his kohai Hinata, Ryū raucous laugh filled the gym.

“I’m just sore from our match against Shiratorizawa. I really put all my power into that last spike.” It was that spike that won Karasuno the fourth set and gave them the momentum to win the next one as well, beating Shiratorizawa. Ryū really had put everything into that spike, surprising even himself with its power. He had been amazed when his arm was still attached afterwards, with the muscles crying out as they were.

“Ehh? But that was three days ago, how can it still be sore!”

Walking by, Tsukishima muttered under his breath, “It’s because he’s an old man isn’t it?”

Sputtering, Ryū spun to face Tsukishima. “Huh?! Did ya say something Tsukishima??”

“Oh?” Tsukishima jeered, “I didn’t know old men had such good hearing.”

Riled up now, Ryū shot back “Say that again _city boy_.” Tsukishima just hid his smile behind his hand and snorted.

“Still saying that I see.”

“Tsukishima! Tanaka! Knock it off!” Daichi had finally intervened, the vein in his head just beginning to pop out. Flinching both boys turned their backs and took one last gulp of water. Returning to the hitting lines, Ryū made sure to be paired up against Tsukishima. Revenge would be a sweet, sweet joy for him.

“LEFT,” he roared out to Suga, beginning his approach. First step... second… watch the ball… watch the blocker…  plant… jump… and Extend. Reaching out, Ryū whipped his hand around.

And felt a tear.

Then his hand came into contact with the ball.

His shoulder exploded in pain.

Crashing to the ground, Ryū stumbled down onto his knees. Coddling his right shoulder gingerly with his left hand, he faintly heard a scream. When it finally registered as his own, he bit down on his lip, hoping to stop the scream as well as the pain.

It didn’t work.

Hunching over, Ryū pushed his forehead into the ground groaning. At his side he held his arm at an awkward angle. His shoulder wouldn’t rotate nor sit properly in it’s socket. _Somethings wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong._

As his teammates rushed in around him, he saw the concern on all of their faces and in their voices. He had to assure them it was fine, he couldn’t leave them worrying. Struggling, his face twitched into what could have been a smile, but Ryū wasn’t sure. He tried to tell them it was fine, that he was fine, but all that came out was another groan.

Pain wracked his arm, making it hard to concentrate on anything but blocking it out. The muscles had to be on fire, that was the only explanation for the pain. He felt it throbbing with his pulse, a steady beat that drowned out all else. He could feel ginger touches, but they _hurt_.

“Get back!” Ryū was vaguely aware of Coach Ukai yelling, “Sensei, can you take him to the hospital? We can’t do much for him here.”

“Of-f course, help me get him to the van,” came the rushed reply. Slowly Ryū felt himself being picked up till he was on his feet. Sagging against the person next to him, he forced himself to take step after step through the crippling pain. Glancing up, Ryū was glad to see glasses glinting down, supporting him.

***

Saeko held him gently by his left elbow, guiding him towards her car. His right arm was resting in a sling, and he was pumped full of painkillers.

“Thankss ‘fer comin to pick me up nee-san,” Ryū told her, slurring his words. “I luv you, ya know that right?” A goofy smile was plastered across his face, and she considered taking a picture to show him later. But she refrained as her eyes traced the still noticeable tear tracks down his face.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she assured him. Opening the door, she helped him in and got him buckled.

“Should ya really be driven nee-san?” he told her as she hopped into the driver's seat, “I mean you’re, like, _bad_ at it.” Narrowing her eyes, she reached across and rubbed his head vigorously.

“What was that brat? Who came all this way just to pick you up, huh?” She retracted her hand and started the car, Ryū giggling in his seat next to her. As she drove them home, she triple checked everything; her speed, other cars, intersections, everything. She wouldn’t risk injuring Ryū anymore than he already was.

Upon their safe arrival home, she heated them up some leftover pizza. Keeping a close eye on him to make sure he didn’t choke on his food, she allowed him to ramble on uninterrupted for once. It was endearing really, how awkward he was with his left hand. The painkillers didn’t help his coordination of course, proven by the number of times he dropped his pizza just to drop it again as he tried to pick it up.

After they had finished eating, she helped him into his pajamas and tucked him in, nice and cozy. A phantom of a smile passed over her lips as she remembered their mother doing much the same to Saeko when she was sick. But their mother had died before Ryū had a chance to share the same memory.

“Night,” she whispered. A faint ‘night’ drifted back to her from under the blankets as she shut off the light and closed the door. Going back to the living room, she looked over the prescription the doctor had given her for naproxen sodium, a strong painkiller. She didn’t think Ryū would remember since he was loopy from the drugs, but she remembered every word the doctor had told her.

She had said that it didn’t look good. Ryū shoulder was wrecked pretty bad, enough to pull him out of volleyball for a while. Of course, they wouldn’t be sure for how long until the follow up exam tomorrow morning. Saeko drifted over to the family altar and knelt.

“Please,” she whispered to her mother, “don’t let Ryū be pulled out of volleyball. He needs it, it keeps him in line. He’ll just revert to his delinquent days. We can’t go back to that.” Lighting the incense, Saeko stayed seated, memories of  Ryū coming home bruised and battered but refusing to answer questions; of getting called to his school; and of finally forcing him into a sport just to keep him busy coursed through her. Of then watching as he slowly started to smile and to open up, not just to her, but to Yuu and the others as well; of seeing him keep his temper in check and be considerate of others for once.

_If he has to quit volleyball, how long before he snaps?_

***

Lighting bolts radiated down Ryū right arm. Gasping, he rolled over, off his right side and onto his back. Grimacing, he waited for the pain to go away. After a few minutes it subsided, but it did not leave. Now awake, Ryū took three deep breaths and sat up. Wincing, he felt his arm continue to throb. A blipping light in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Turning his head, he gingerly reached for his phone. Flipping it open, he saw nearly 50 messages from his teammates.

 

_“Ryū are you alive?? How r u doing??”_

_“How’s the shoulder?”_

_“Tanaka-senpai, get better!! FIGHT!!!”_

_“Tanaka, are you alright?”_

_“Ur going to practice tomorrow right?”_

_“How serious is it? WILL U LIVE”_

_“when r u coming back?”_

_“Hurry back.”_

_“It’ll be fine.”_

_“Can’t wait to play with u again.”_

 

Looking at his clock, he saw it was way too late to reply. Nobody would appreciate being woken up at three a.m. for a text. He would see them all tomorrow. He sorta remembered something about a follow up appointment, which meant he could skip first period math. Smiling, he felt how heavy his eyelids were. Putting his phone back on the table, Ryū carefully lowered himself onto his back. A twinge of uncertainty ran through him, wondering if he’d roll back onto his right side. But the fears couldn’t keep him awake as he slowly drifted into unconsciousness, a dull throbbing still emanating from his arm.

***

Ryū had been surprised by Saeko’s reasonable pace as she drove them to the doctors. But now, after having been forced to wait for an hour, her impatience took over and she approached the help desk for a third time.

“How much longer? It can’t possibly take this long to look at some scans.” Tapping her fingers against the counter, she listened as the secretary explained, yet again, how there were other patients and the doctor would be with them soon. Coming back to their seats, she plopped down and crossed her arms and legs. Ryū leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes. His shoulder still throbbed, like it was being hit with a hammer. The painkillers had gotten rid of the sharp pain, but did nothing for the dull ache he felt.

“Tanaka,” called a short, burly nurse. He stood waiting by the door as the Tanaka siblings made their way over to him.

“Finally,” Saeko muttered to Ryū, leading the way. The nurse lead them down a hallway to a small, green room and instructed Ryū to sit on the bed.

“Your Doctor will be with you shortly,” he told them as he left the room.

“He better be,” Saeko remarked. Ryū hoped for the doctor’s sake that they didn’t take to long. Saeko picked up one of the health pamphlets from the wall while Ryū contented himself with looking around the room. The pamphlets topics ranged from allergies to stomach bugs to preventing the flu. On the wall behind him hung one of those blood pressure things while the counter by the door had a sink as well as a box of syringes and a bio-hazard trash can. Two chairs sat opposite the bed, Saeko occupying the right one. Swiveling his head at the sound of the door, the doctor stepped in.

 _D-cups,_ Ryū immediately thought. Her short, black hair was clipped back behind her ears, but a small piece had escaped. In her hands she held an open file that she examined for a second longer. Looking up, she fixed her gray eyes on Ryū.

“Tanaka-san, I take it?” at his nod, she continued, “My name’s Sena. I’m going to be frank- your scans don’t look good. From what we can tell, you’ve torn your rotator cuff.” Ryū felt his heart quicken. Rotator cuff injuries were common in volleyball, but most could be healed quickly with rest and rehab.

“As I’m sure you know, it’s a common injury for volleyball players, especially you spikers. . . Yours, unfortunately, is one of the worst I’ve seen.” Here she paused, trying to gauge Ryū’s reaction.  

His heart felt heavy; he felt it sink like a stone to the pit of his stomach. Shifting his right arm, he tried to prove it couldn’t actually be that bad. Pangs shot up his arm, forcing him to stop the movement and take a steadying breath. So much for that.

“I’m telling you now, if you ever want to play volleyball again, you’re going to need surgery.” Jerking his head to meet her solemn gaze, Ryū felt panic set in.

“Surgery!? But if I get surgery, I won’t be able to play at Nationals!”

Then Ryū stilled. It wouldn’t just be Nationals. If he needed surgery, his rehab time would increase drastically. He might not be able to play at the start of his third year. He’s supposed to replace Asahi-san as ace. With that much time lost, would he still be able to do it?

Reaching out for him, Sena said, “I know it isn’t ideal, but-” He slapped her arm away, shouting.

“No! I’m telling you I don’t-”

“Ryū!” Saeko yelled. Staring him down she said softer, “Ryū calm down.” Lowering his gaze so he didn’t have to meet his sister's gaze, he tried to control his labored breathing. Muttering an apology, Sena nodded, face tense.

“It’s alright. I understand how much this hurts. But you’ve torn your muscle. Surgery is your best hope for getting back on the court. I need you to understand though, doing this doesn’t guarantee a full recovery. Your arm probably won’t be as strong as it was before. And it’ll take at least six months to recover, and after that is continued rehabilitation, possibly for the rest of your life.” Ryū trembled, his left knuckles white from gripping the edge of the bed. He was dumbfounded. He understood that he needed the surgery. But how could he have it? How could he not?

“What do you want to do Tanaka-san?” Sena asked him. “I can have the surgery set up within the week.” Taking a shaky breath, Ryū nodded. It was better to wait and play than never play again. Working past the lump in his throat he told her,

“Please set it up.”

***

Ryū stood in front of his math teacher, the sixth teacher he had met that morning. After the meeting with Doctor Sena, he had gone to school to discuss arrangements for while he was out for surgery.

“Surgery huh?” he mulled. “That’s unfortunate for your volleyball career. But now that you’re out of volleyball, you can focus on your classes.”

“I’ll still be going to practice,” Ryū growled defensive. He scowled at the teacher; he wasn’t the first to assume this meant the end of the line for his sports career.

Taken aback his teacher stuttered “Of course, it’s just that…” straightening, he continued more resolute, “It's just that maybe you should consider quitting.” At a loss for words, Ryū listened as his teacher continued.

“From what I understand, your injury will keep you out of the rest of this season and possibly the next. You’re almost a third year now, think about your future a little. If you take this opportunity to focus on your studies, you might make it into a university! But if you sit around at practice, you won’t get anywhere.”

 _Opportunity? How is this an… opportunity?_ To Ryū, the word felt despicable. That anything good could come out of this horror was revolting. He had to attend practice-if he didn’t his skills would deteriorate.

 _‘"f you sit around at practice…" I_ _won’t get anywhere_. Should he just...quit then? If he didn’t, he’d have to sit on the side lines, watching everyone practice. Watching them improve.

_I don’t want that._

“Well, just keep in mind what I said. I’ll have the work for when you’re gone by tomorrow.” Turning back to his desk, Ryū hesitated, torn between wanting to leave and wanting to scream that it wasn’t over, that he could still play volleyball. Bowing stiffly, Ryū left the lounge, shutting the door with a touch too much force. Taking deep breaths, his hand slid off the handle. Someone at the end of the hallway shouted his name, and turning he watched Noya bound towards him.

“Ryū! How are you? I heard you went to the doctor today. What’d they say? When are you coming back?” Voices began echoing through his head.

_“tore the muscle…”      “a full year at least for a full recovery...”_

_“Surgery needed…”               “sitting at practice…”_

_“take this opportunity to focus on your studies…”      “think of the future…”_

_“you might not ever fully recover”_

_“you’re out of volleyball”_

Ryū was overwhelmed by the voices of his doctor and teacher. Repeating over and over, repeating to the throbbing beat from his shoulder. Compounding the pain. He felt as all his rage, all his hurt, from being _injured_ and being _benched_ and being _crippled_ build up.

“Hey Ryū, you’ll be fine in time for Nationals right?”

He snapped

“You wanna know what the _Doctor_ said?” he bellowed, grabbing Noya’s shirt with his left hand. “She said I might not ‘come back.’ I might not even fully recover! Am I going to Nationals?” Laughing, Ryū pulled Noya’s face within inches of his own, “I might not even make it to next _season_!” Jerking Noya back, Ryū let go, fuming. Noya stood, face stuck in an expression of astonishment, mouth wide open.

“What’s wrong Noya-san?” Ryū’s laughter qualifying as maniacal now. “Cat got your tongue? You’d better step up your game before Nekoma, or else you guys will get beat!” That’s right, it would be them who lost or won; it wasn’t ‘we’ anymore. Slowly his laughter died off, and he turned away from Noya.

“I won’t be going to practice anymore,” he said. This jolted Noya, his eyes widening.

“What? You can’t leave! Even if you can’t practice, we all have to be there! Why? Why are you leaving too?” Noya’s voice was filled with panic and fear; Ryū didn’t have to turn and look at his expression to know he was thinking about Asahi.

Standing in the doorway to the teachers lounge was his math teacher. Walking away, Ryū  threw his bitter words at them.

“'I have to think of the _future_.”

***

The surgery was scheduled to be in three days. He avoided contacting his teammates, but informed Takeda-sensei about what was going on.

“I’m very sorry to hear that Tanaka-kun. But please don’t get discouraged. All injuries heal, and you’re tenacious enough to overcome this.” Beaming up at him, Ryū felt his heart tighten in his chest. “I still think you should come to the practices. Even if you can’t participate, you’re still apart of the team. It’ll be good for moral too. Nobody is as excited with you gone.”

“About that, sensei…”

“Hmm?”

“I’d like to request a club withdrawal form.” Startled, Takeda-sensei stared up at him in stunned silence. His grip slipped and the file he’d been holding dropped. Ryū instinctively reached for it. With his right arm. Stars danced in his vision as pain flared up- a white hot iron being shoved into his shoulder socket.

“Tanaka-kun! Are you alright?” squeezing his eyes, Ryū nodded. He hated when the pain came. It demanded to be felt, required that he not move his arm in any motion, least of all spiking. Takeda-sensei fretted over him a bit more, but eventually pinned Ryū down with his gaze.

“Are you sure that’s what you want? Are you sure you want to give up?”

“I’m not-” he fell silent as Takeda-sensei continued to stare at him from over his glasses. “Please give me the form Sensei.”

Takeda-sensei continued to hesitate, and Ryū thought he might refuse. Letting out a sigh, he reached into a stack of papers and pulled one out from the bottom.

“Please be certain that this is what you want before you turn it back into me, Tanaka-kun. Doing this won’t just affect this season. If you come back next season, how will your teammates receive you?” Ryū froze for just a moment. A sharp stab ripped through his arm. He grabbed the paper.

“Thank you Sensei,” he said as he left.

***

“Alright Tanaka-san,” the man standing over him said, “I’m just going to place this mask over your mouth...there we go. Now I want you to start counting backwards from 100, alright?”

_100… ugh, why is that light so bright_

_99… why’s scrubs man just staring at me_

_98… his mask makes him look like a killer_

_97… what if he is!_

_96… what if… he’s here to ruin my shoulder_

_95… please… any god...don’t_

_94… don’t let this go wrong_

_93…...._

***

Ryū sat on his couch, eating a piece of melonpan Saeko had gotten him. He’d been release from the hospital a week ago, the surgery having been a success. Or so they told him. If anything, it seemed to hurt more now. Whenever Saeko changed the bandage over the cut, he’d prod at it, sometimes until he made it bleed. His sister had scolded him, saying that it wasn’t helping and to stop it.

Absentmindedly fidgeting with the sling, he finished chewing the melonpan. Glancing at the clock, he noted that Saeko should be home soon. Even though he’d gotten out of the hospital, he’d been confined at home. For a week. A whole week had passed since the operation, and Ryū was going stir crazy. Without volleyball to burn off his excess steam, he was twitchy and short tempered. Four times now, he’d had to apologize to Saeko for snapping at her. Luckily she had forgiven him quickly.  

“BZZZ.”

Grabbing his phone and flipping it open, a notification from Taketora popped up. He had skirted his teammate, barely telling them what was going on. But Taketora and the rest of Nekoma didn’t know anything. Ryū withdrew, but eventually opened the message.

_“HAVE YOU SEEN THE MATCH UPS FOR NATIONALS YET??”_

Ryū threw his phone onto the far side of the couch. Of course Taketora hadn’t meant to hurt him, he didn’t even know for crying out loud. Lurching up, Ryū ignored the phone as it buzzed a second time. Going to his school bag, he rummaged around until his hand closed around the paper he was looking for. Pulling it out, he stared at the bolded letters on the top. Club Withdrawal Form. It was completely filled out, but Ryū hadn’t turned it into Sensei before the surgery. The click of keys unlocking the door roused him from his muddled thoughts.   

“I’m home,” Saeko called. Welcoming her back, he shoved the paper back into the recesses of his bag and returned to his place on the couch.

“Did you spend all day on the couch again? You’ve been sitting there the whole week,” her accusing tone only worsened his mood, so all he did was grunt in reply. Sighing, Saeko pressed on, “The match ups for Nationals were released today, I picked you up a copy. Looks like you guys are finally getting your ‘Battle of the Trash Heap.’”

“What!” Ryū jolted up to stand face to face with her. Surprised by his sudden surge of energy, she trust a piece of paper toward him.

“Here.” Grabbing the sheet, Ryū scanned the line ups. Sure enough, Karasuno’s first match was against Nekoma. Spinning on his heels, Ryū grabbed his phone and opened the second message from Taketora.

_“I’m gonna spike more points than you! BRING IT OOONNN.”_

“Of course you will,” Ryū muttered under his breath. He felt a sting in his eyes and to his pride.

“Ryū?” Saeko asked, placing her hand lightly on his arm. Crumpling the sheet up he tossed it back to her.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not on the team anymore, so why should I care?” Plopping down on the couch, he turned away from her, closing his eyes. Softly, she said to him,

“You didn’t turn in the form.” His eyes wrenched open. But he continued refusing to face her directly, so she walked out the room, leaving him alone.

The rest of the day his phone continued to buzz. Messages from his teammates and his friends continued pouring in. Frustrated, he shut it off. He didn’t want to talk to them. He knew what they were going to say. It’s what they had been saying the whole time.

_“You’ll be better in no time”_

_“Don’t worry about it too much”_

_“Ur coming tomorrow right??”_

_“Can’t wait to play with you again”_

_“Everything’s going to be fine”_

Except everything wasn’t fine. He knew they meant well. He understood that. And yet it pissed him off. How could they understand what it was like to be benched because of an injury. He couldn’t just work hard and improve enough to get back on the court. How was he supposed to get through this if he couldn’t _do_ anything about it?

 _The worst thing about this_ , Ryū decided, _is not being able to do anything to improve my situation. Followed closely by the pain._

A third occurred to him, but Ryū denied it, berating himself for being so childish. But the thought continued to press at his conscience until he relented.

_And knowing that everyone else can still play._

***

Grabbing his bag, Ryū made his way to the door. Almost two weeks had passed since his injury, and today would be his first day back. During the first week, Ryū had only read the messages everyone sent him, but after that he just deleted them, unread. Even though the messages were well intentioned, Ryū couldn’t stand them. Well wishes meant nothing when he wasn’t improving.

Ryū was uncertain how everyone would react to seeing him. He didn’t really want to see them, especially Noya. They’d just pelt him with the same question, over and over, and he’d have to tell them again and again how he couldn’t play at Nationals.

So he made sure to leave early enough that he would reach school during morning practice. Ryū made it to his classroom undisturbed, and there he sat, hurriedly finishing the work his teachers had assigned him.   

As terrible as his handwriting had been before, it was nothing compared to his atrocious left hand scribbles. Not only was it messier, it was slower too. Rushing, he wrote harder and faster until the tip of his pencil snapped. Leaning back, Ryū released the pent up breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

_Just another thing that sucks right now._

Slowly people began trickling into the classroom. Mostly Ryū ignored them, but a few came over to chat. His curt responses and facial expressions led most people to leave him alone though, and for that he was thankful.

The rest of the day passed as it normally would. Getting chewed out by teachers for not doing the work, counting the minutes until class ended, building tiny structures out of lead. The one thing that was different was that he didn’t hang out with his teammates. _Or ex-teammates now_ , Ryū thought, glancing at his bag where the withdrawal form lay.

During lunch, Ryū went to see Takeda-sensei. Now that he was back, he could turn in the form. Shuffling down the hallway, Ryū stared at his horrible signature at the bottom of the page.

“RRYYUUU!” jerking around to face the source of the screech, Ryū spotted a child barreling towards him.

 _Noya!_ Ryū panicked. What was he supposed to say? Their last meeting hadn’t ended well because of him. Taking off in the opposite direction, Ryū sprinted down the hallway. Ignoring the pain emanating from his arm, he turned a sharp corner. Spotting an empty room, he leapt in, shutting the door. Next thing he heard was Noya roaring down the hallway, quickly fading out of range.

Resting his head against the frame of the door, Ryū silently berated himself. He’d have to face Noya sooner or later, and running away would just make it that much more uncomfortable. softly beating his head against the wood, he whispered idiot to himself over and over.

Ryū stayed in there until the bell rang for lunch to be over. Peeking out to be sure Noya wasn’t there, he worked his way back to the classroom. Every corner he’d peek around to make sure the coast was clear, ignoring the stares from onlookers.   

For the rest of the day, Ryū continued doing this. Keeping an eye out, he’d walk the other direction at the slightest sign of his ex-teammates. Voices, hair color, height, any and all of their distinct characteristics were on his radar.

 _Not today,_ Ryū prayed. He had let them down. What was he supposed to say when all he could think about was how they could play volleyball and he could only watch?

After school, Ryū stood outside the gym listening to the squeak of court shoes. The sound washed over him, calling out to every fiber of his being. Takeda-sensei had said they hadn’t been as excited while he’d been gone. That didn’t seem to be the case anymore as Noya crowed yet again, obviously pleased with whatever he’d just done.

_It’s good that they’re back to normal. They’re probably busy preparing for Nationals, I shouldn’t interrupt them. I’ll visit later._

Even he could tell he was lying to himself.

***

The next two days passed in much the same fashion, with Ryū attempting to avoid contact with as many as people as possible. All was well as lunch rolled around. Peering around the corner to look at the crowds in front of the bread stands, Ryū kept an eye out for Daichi.

“Ryū?” a questioning voice came from behind him. Spinning around, Ryū looked up at Asahi. Standing there scratching the back of his neck, like he did anytime he was nervous, Asahi stuttered on. “I didn’t expect to run into you. How are you?”

“Asahi-san! I’m, uh, fine. You?” Ryū felt his blood pressure go through the roof. Why did he have to run into Asahi? _Better him than Noya,_ Ryū decided, trying to calm his muscles that were screaming to run away.

“Oh, I’m fine, we’re all fine… We miss you, though...” the caution in his voice clued Ryū into what he was trying to say. _“Please come back.”_

“Didn’t Noya tell you? I’m not coming to practice anymore.” Asahi looked taken aback.

“He did say something like that. But then again I said much the same, but still wound up coming back.” Chuckling, Asahi forged on. “Even after everything that happened, you all welcomed me back. And it felt great to go back. I’m sure the same would be true for you.”

Ryū jaw tightened and a burning rage started broiling in the pit of his stomach.

“But it’s different for me. Even if I do just _randomly_ show back up like you, there’s no place for me. We needed your strength Asahi-san. I don’t have any strength to give.” Flinching, Asahi tried to refute his claim.

“That isn’t true! There’s still lots you can do, plus next year you’ll be the ace so you can’t just leave the team!” Scowling, Ryū shot back,

“What like you did? Don’t you get it Asahi-san? I’m quitting volleyball. It’s over.” Ryū saw his words land like heavy blows on Asahi. He felt the impact himself.

 _That’s right,_ Ryū thought, _it’s over. No more volleyball._

The Ace with the glass heart looked ready to cry. A twinge of regret bothered Ryū. A burst of pain from his shoulder swept it away however. Without another word he turned and left.

 

Walking past the hallway that lead to the gym after school, Ryū paused. From inside he heard Kageyama and Hinata yelling at each other. The regular routine. Nothing had changed. For them.

Briskly walking away, Ryū ignored the sound of Kageyama serving and Hinata receiving the ball.

 

 

***

The fourth day back at school was terrible for Ryū. Asahi must have shared their conversation with the rest of the team; they all kept coming to find him. He had his classmate send Kageyama and Hinata away, refusing to even talk with them. Ennoshita had stood in front of his desk and asked him to stay on the team.

He refused.

“You haven’t even turned in your withdrawal form yet! Can you really say you want to quit?” Poking at his chest Ryū evasively told him,

“I just haven’t found the time.” Glaring down, Ennoshita replied,

“Right,” and stormed out. His classmates watched him leave, then fixed their attention on Ryū.

“What?” he growled at them. Turning away, they all began to chat louder than necessary. He hated that they were all worrying about him.

 _They should just focus on Nationals,_ he raged. _It’s in two days! They need to focus, it’s Nekoma after all!_   

That day after school, Ryū walked straight past the gym without turning his head, not listening for the familiar sounds of practice.

Not hearing a volleyball being spiked.

***

Ryū could barely keep his eyes open as he made his way to morning assembly. Between shoulder pain and make-up work, he hadn’t been sleeping well the past few days.

 _Why’s it so damn early?_  He questioned. Ryū's foul mood didn’t improve as he spotted a group of first years horsing around on the stairs. _Stupid brats with their energy and carefree life._

One of them was attempting to balance on the railing. Using his friends head for balance, he teetered back and forth. Walking by, Ryū glared at them, then focused on making it up the rest of the stairs.

“Get off, man!” the boy being used as a stilt laughed, shoving his friend's arm off. The boy wobbled, and Ryū watched in horror as he yelled and slowly tipped towards him.  

“Oh my god! Are you alright? I didn’t mean to hit you, it just happened,” the boy leapt off Ryū and reached out to help him up.

Swearing, he slammed the boys hand away.

“Fuck off! I’m already hurt, so was this really necessary?!” He didn’t appear to be talking to to boy in front of him anymore. Forcing himself to his feet, he turned to shuffle back down the stairs.

“Wait! Where are you going, I’ll help you there-”

“No. I can go to the infirmary myself.” Grumbling, he left the boys speechless.

 

“Nee-san, I need to go home.” A pause from the other end.

“Why?”

“Some ass hat ran into my shoulder and it hurts to much.” A second, longer pause.

“Is that the only reason?” Confused, Ryū stared at the phone.

“Yes?” he slowly ventured.

“It’s not because you want to run from your teammates?” The firmness in her voice caught him off guard. Offended, he hissed,

“Of course not! And besides, I’m not a part of the team anymore.”

“Oh? Then you turned in the withdrawal form?” This time the pause came from his end. Eventually he heard Saeko sigh. He could just see her rubbing her temples.

“Alright, I’ll be there soon.”

 

The rest of the day his phone buzzed nonstop. Saeko accusing him of running away from his teammates gnawed at his conscience until he forced himself to read the messages, if only to prove her wrong. He was surprised by their content.

The team appeared to collectively take a ‘tough love’ approach, texting him things like _“that’s what u get for worrying us”,  “i swear if you don’t txt back rn im coming to your HOUSE,”_ and _“u better talk to us or else IM going to hurt you.”_ Noya’s in particular struck a chord.

_“Everyone’s been off their game cause they’re so busy worrying about you.”_

Steeling himself, he opened a group message.

_“I'm fine. Good luck @ Nationals tomorrow.”_

Not wanting to deal with anything else, he shut off his phone, closed his eyes, and fell into a fitful sleep.

***

“Come on Ryū,” Saeko called,”it’s time for the game. Aren’t you gonna go?”

It was quiet, then almost inaudibly from beneath the pile of blankets,

“no.”

“What?” Saeko asked, confused.

“NO!” screamed Ryū, throwing back the blankets with his left arm and leaping up.

“No, No, No, No, **NO**!” He could feel tears start to stream down his face, but he didn’t, couldn’t, care. Not anymore.

“I’m not going! I don’t want to see them play. _I_ want to play! But this stupid thing,” he raged on, pulling at the sling until it ripped off, sending jolts of pain through his shoulder, “won’t let me!” Flinging the sling away, he began beating his arm, cursing everything.

“Stupid _**arm**_. Stupid _**injury**_. Stupid _**game**_.” Grabbing his arm, Saeko tried to restrain him. Ryū just continued to try and hit the stupid arm that _just. wouldn’t. work._

“Ryū!” Saeko cried out. At that, he finally looked over at her and froze, watching as tears spilled from her eyes.

“Ryū,” she said again softer, “please.”

He was trembling. He could feel it. His knees were going to give out on him, just like his shoulder. Leaning into her, he let her strength hold him up. Her lavender perfume washed over him, accentuating his hollowness.

“Why? Why did it turn out this way?” his voice cracked, but the words wouldn’t stop. “We had finally made it… we were finally winning! We had made it to Nationals! But now… now it’s just them that’s going. I hate it! I’m so frustrated!” Ryū continued to rant and yell into her, sobbing out all his bottled up pain and anger. How he hated that they could all still play. How he hated that he hated that. How scared he was of falling behind, of losing his place on the team. How he didn't know how to face his team after saying all those spiteful things. All of his fears and angst spilled out, a torrential waterfall that couldn’t be stopped. Saeko just stood rubbing his back in soothing circles, listening, clutching him tighter and tighter.  

Eventually his voice died down and Ryū slowly started to collect himself. His yells melted into whimpers and then sniffles. Still holding him, Saeko asked,

“Ryū… do you- do you hate volleyball now?”

Pausing, he thought carefully. Did he hate volleyball?

“No,” he started slowly, “no, I don’t hate it. I just… I just want to play _so bad._ I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now that I can’t.” Pulling him back, Saeko held his chin so he had to look her in the eye.

“But you still can play can’t you? Even if it’s not right this second, you'll eventually get back on the court. You always were like this. Never thinking of how things might change in the future. You live to much in the now.” Pressing their foreheads together, Saeko consoled him.

“If you wanted to play so badly, why’d you give up?” Ryū felt fresh tears pool at the corner of his eyes. Closing them so they wouldn’t spill over, he murmured,

“I was just so scared. How can their be a future when everything's so bleak now?” Saeko surprised him by laughing.

“You said the same thing after Mom’s death. But look, things got better, didn’t they? You got to be raised by a cool sister like me.” Laughing with her, they pulled away, dabbing at their eyes.

"So what d’ya say? Wanna go to the game now?” Grinning, Saeko watched an old fire rekindle in his eyes.

“Hell yeah!”

Even if he was in the stands, he’d cheer like he was on the court. Before they left, Ryū grabbed a sheet of paper out of his bag.

_I won’t be needing this anymore,_ he thought, crumpling up the club withdrawal form up and tossing it in the garbage.        

 

**Author's Note:**

> HAHA, so you can thank tumblr users sormiku and tsukkiaf for the idea. This is my first fic, and feed back is welcomed!


End file.
